


His Irrational Fear

by Walkerbaby



Category: Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at our two favorite guys and the fears they don't want to let anyone else know about</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Irrational Fear

**Author's Note:**

> It all belongs to the BBC and Kudos.

  Title - His Irrational Fear   
Rating - NC-17 for suggested sexuality   
Warnings - spoilers for episode 2.8  
Disclaimer - It all belongs to Kudos and BBC Ladies and germs. If it belonged to me I'd have cuddled it to death by now.   
Pairings - Sam/Gene

  


Gene Hunt has a fear. An irrational fear. A phobia you could call it; but you wouldn’t dare call it that to him because he might give you a good smack to the chops for it. DCI Gene Hunt isn’t afraid of anything, except this and there’s more than one reason that no one else can know about it. More than just his pride that keeps him from admitting to the panic that sometimes overtakes his dreams and kept him awake at night. 

Gene Hunt’s irrational fear was this. That for all Sam Tyler’s nuttiness, for all the bollocks he talked about not belonging in 1973, when all of it was pushed aside - Gene Hunt was terrified that part of it might be true. Not the in a coma in 2006 part, he hadn’t gone soft in the head after all. The part that he was terrified might come true was the parts where Sam talked about leaving, about going home. 

He hadn’t talked about it for a long while, not since the botched train robbery with Leslie Johns, but the fact that he might one day leave scared Gene more than anything else ever could. The idea of not solving cases together using their patented mixture of Sam’s brains and Gene’s instincts; not sharing scotch together in the pub after a particularly successful day stopping crime. Not listening to the man hum off tune renditions of the crap they called music now a days as he cooked in their kitchen. Not having the man around to pick up his dirty clothes and complain about how he wasn’t in fact Gene’s wife and he wouldn’t become it in practice either. No more Sam in his bed with the face of a cherub, the body of a seraphim, the mouth of a succubi and a mind that would make the most talented rent boys blush. 

That was Gene Hunt’s fear. That one day, Sam, well he’d just be gone and Gene would be alone again. Somehow he’d managed to survive everything life had thrown at him but that - well Gene wouldn’t even pretend he could survive it and stay sane. 

Sam Tyler had a fear. An irrational fear. A phobia you could call it; but you wouldn’t dare call it that to him because he’d just give you one of the withering looks that he’s managed to perfect over the years - not having the muscle to smack others around the chops as easily as Gene. DI Sam Tyler isn’t afraid of anything, except this (and spiders but there’s no need to talk about that really) and there’s more than one reason that no one else can know about it. More than just his pride that keeps him from admitting to the panic that sometimes overtakes his dreams and kept him awake at night. 

Sam Tyler’s irrational fear was this. That for all Gene Hunt’s stubbornness, for all the bollocks he talked about how he’d survive the lot of them and have a drink on all their graves, when all of it was pushed aside - Sam Tyler was terrified that it wasn’t true. Not that Gene Hunt wasn’t truly stubborn, Sam knew he was. What terrified him was that now that Sam had made his decision, now that he’d come back and there was no way to get to 2006, now that he’d chosen to be with Gene here in 1973, he was terrified that Gene would simply one day be gone. Worn out from too many fags, and too much booze, and too little rest. That one day he’d just drop dead and Sam would be left here alone in a world that still didn’t make any sense to him. That one of these days all the bullets that winged him wouldn’t matter because some crim had a better aim than the rest and managed to get a good shot off. 

He hadn’t talked about it for a long while, not since the botched train robbery with Leslie Johns and the healing bullet wound in Gene’s leg that was Sam’s fault, but the fact that he might one day actually die scared Sam more than anything else ever could. The idea of not solving cases together using their patented mixture of Sam’s brains and Gene’s instincts; not sharing scotch together in the pub after a particularly successful day stopping crime. Not listening to the man complain about how he hummed as he cooked but insisting that Sam not stop because it was better than silence. Not having the man leaving his dirty clothes about and making lewd suggestions in response to his complaints about how he wasn’t in fact Gene’s wife and he wouldn’t become it in practice either. No more Gene Hunt cuddling him in the night, no more wearing his collars buttoned to hide love bites on his collarbones. No more listening to that whiskey voice plead and break into hoarse cries of pleasure and moans of ecstasy when he was draped over Sam’s back making love to him or had his fingers curled in Sam’s hair and his head thrown back in abandon as Sam sucked on his cock. 

That was Sam Tyler’s fear. That one day, Gene, well he’d just be gone and Sam would be trapped here alone. Somehow he’d managed to survive everything life had thrown at him but that - well Sam wouldn’t even pretend he could survive it and stay sane. 

 


End file.
